Delicate Webs
by peachcigars
Summary: Something happens. Maybe this is the moment each has been waiting for. Maybe this is the moment that finally brings them together. / Peter x MJ.


The very first thing that flashed through Mary Jane's mind when she had heard that Gwen had been killed in the Goblin attack wasn't grief. It wasn't pain and it wasn't the heartache that was sure to come moments later. Mary Jane thought back to a night many weeks back when Gwen had been going on a (rather boring) spiel about how her studies at OsCorp were taking longer than she had originally hoped, and how she thought she would probably be dead before she came any closer to finding out the equation used to _blah de blah blah_.

Mary Jane was hit with the worst case of anxiety.

She wondered if Gwen had ever sorted through her research and found whatever boring equation that she had been looking for. She wondered if she wasn't so caught up in herself all of the time, that Gwen's work wouldn't be left to die with her and Mary Jane could have personally taken it upon herself to finish what Gwen all too soon left behind.

* * *

She was asked to speak at the funeral. Mary Jane had been in a total of 14 school plays throughout her high school years. She'd managed to snag a few smaller roles after graduation, and had even performed a rather tragic and upsetting version of Hellen Keller to a group of New York's homeless in what was supposed to be an inspirational story just before Christmas in the city (though it had come off a bit more offensive than uplifting). Mary Jane was only just confident enough in the role to make it somehow work.

But as she stood up at the podium, staring out at the many tear-stained faces of Gwen's guests seated within a church that she'd only ever stepped foot in once before during Captain Stacy's funeral, Mary Jane was struck with a gut fear she didn't know she had in her. Suddenly, Hellen Keller looked like a cake walk. What could she possibly say? All she wanted to do was lift open Gwen's casket and crawl in beside her and hold her best friend. And that's really what they were, wasn't it? They were best friends? In recent years, Mary Jane had been so swamped with double shifts and trying to wriggle time in for acting. Gwen had school and her internship and Peter. Where _was_ Peter? With Harry? And did she really deserve to be speaking after one of Gwen's professors? Surely she couldn't follow up with the sobfest Gwen's brother had laid up with when he brought up Captain Stacy's old police hat to set among the flowers surrounding her casket. Everything was hitting her all at once; doubt, insecurity, and a terrible case of the blubbering fool as MJ's gaze caught Mrs. Stacy's watery nod to speak on her daughter's behalf.

It wasn't about following up. It wasn't about pulling out the best friend card. It was about honoring Gwendolyne Stacy - the smartest, kindest, most honest human being Mary Jane ever had the pleasure of knowing, and was an all around better person for simply have knowing. Her sweet Gwendy.

She assumed she had been at least somewhat comprehensible through the tears. After stumbling down the stairs and into the waiting arms of Mrs. Stacy, she knew the years MJ and Gwen had spent causing trouble (mostly her own doing as she dragged Gwen along to do said trouble-making) was all forgiven. "Thank you, Mary Jane," Mrs. Stacy's trembles held up as she ran a hand through the back of MJ's dark red locks before setting back down. "Gwen truly lived because of you."

* * *

The days following left Mary Jane feeling more alone than she had ever felt before. She hadn't seen or heard from Peter despite having gone over to Aunt May's at least several times a week to check up, only ever passing along messages for him to call her if he ever needed anything. He never did.

A week after the death of Gwen came the death of Norman Osborn, and where Mary Jane couldn't offer her condolences to Peter or Gwen's family, she saw plenty of Harry. She had gone over to the penthouse a few times to help him sort through his father's belongings to decide what to keep or what to give away. They laughed at old pictures, cried at sentimental, personal belongings, and never spoke once about Peter or Gwen.

A month later, Mary Jane moved to Florida with her Aunt Anna. From Florida, Mary Jane tried her hand at California. She never heard from her drunken father. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure he even realized she was gone if he hadn't noticed that she wasn't sending booze checks monthly any longer. Harry came to visit once. Sometimes he called. Occasionally Flash would email. Aunt May even wrote a letter once or twice, letting her know how Peter was and how her father was doing (the only true way of knowing that he hadn't offed himself just yet).

After a year of being away, communication from home slowly started to dwindle. She knew it was her own fault.

She still couldn't help feeling sad; couldn't help wondering if she would have kept in contact with everyone she left behind in New York if Gwen hadn't died. Maybe she wouldn't have left at all. Maybe no one would have noticed either way.

It was when her thoughts turned as dark as the night that Mary Jane would feel sorry for herself the most - and hate herself for it every time.


End file.
